


A Rose’s Thorns

by BeezandBitches



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Post-Armageddon, The four horsepeople have an identity crisis, The weird parallels of gems and the four horsepeople, They watch Steven Universe and have an existencial crisis, Watching TV, individuality, mentions of Famine/Frannie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:22:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23179912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeezandBitches/pseuds/BeezandBitches
Summary: There’s a Steven Universe marathon on TV all about Rose Quartz, and the Four Horsepeople of the Apocalypse have nothing better to do.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	A Rose’s Thorns

**Author's Note:**

> ...So social-distancing got me actin up and writing practically a steven universe/Good omens crossover fic. In two days.
> 
> I rewatched the episode where Greg babysat Sour Cream and I got this idea. I’m happy with it.
> 
> Leave some love and comments if you like this. Follow me on Tumblr @BeezandBitches for me screaming about the four horsepeople on the regular. 
> 
> PLEASE stay safe out there, wash your hands, and have a lovely day.

Television had to be one of Hell’s inventions. A lot of drivel played everyday to fill the airwaves with all kinds of corruption. Action movies to inspire war and aggression, plastic nothings to pollute the world, diet pill commercials to starve the masses, and never forget the heavy themes of death and despair in every drama ever created, all displayed on a thin little package hung up in nearly every home in the world. They were marvelous. AJ Crowley had taken the credit for the damned things way back when, despite it really being the work of some clever human’s imagination. 

It’s origin didn’t matter as much as what was currently being aired. And that would be an all-day marathon of Steven Universe on Cartoon Network. The network was specifically focusing on episodes featuring Rose Quartz, the leader of the Crystal Gems and the protagonist Steven’s mother.

What lead the four horsepeople of the apocalypse to getting together and watching all it all day in their shared-apartment was a long chain of events that had started with War complaining that there was nothing on that day, followed by about an hour of channel surfing, and Pollution commenting that they recognized the melody of the opening theme. Soon, Death and Famine has joined the two of them in the living room with popcorn.

“So she’s made of light, right?” Pollution asked. “Then how did she have a son? That doesn’t make sense.”

“You say that like we’re not, well, us.” Famine said.

“Look it’s a cartoon, I wouldn’t worry too much about it.” War said. “And shut up, I can’t hear what they’re talking about.”

“THEY WERE DISCUSSING GOING DOWN TO THE PLANET FOR A PERSONAL TOUR.” Death said. Least someone was paying attention.

_“And this is just a small portion of the resources available for making gems on this planet.”_

_“I have to see it all.”_

“Did the Earth really look like that? In the beginning?” Pollution asked, snatching a handful of popcorn from War’s bowl. Their eyes never left the montage that started to play, the beat of the drum in the background matching their own heartbeat- if they had a heart, that is. 

“Sure did.” Famine said. “Less pinks, but just as green.” Sometimes they would forget Pollution hadn’t always been with them. Back then Pestilence had filled their shoes, rising from the nothing surrounding Eden near the corpse of a lion killed by a holy sword, bugs buzzing around it as it’s flesh had began to rot. He had been born into the new world just as Famine and War had, while Pollution followed long after in the toxic smog of industrial factories and the oil slicks left by cargo ships. 

They never saw the gentle flower blossoms barely peeking over the newly-sealed walls of Eden, or the bushels of berries that snuck their way through the cracks in the stone. Their first glimpse of the world had been one of greys and browns, coating the metal walls of power plants. No bright greens, no pinks. 

_“Are you alright, My Diamond? You seem troubled..”_

_“All this life that’s been growing wild here on Earth.. None of it will survive my invasion.”_ Rose’s words were punctuated by a sharp roar of thunder. _“We’re not creating life from nothing, we’re taking life and leaving nothing behind.”_

The story of Pink Diamond’s spiral into rebellion after being ignored time and again by those she saw as close to her reminded the four of them of a similar tale told to them long ago by a serpent with large golden eyes about the fall of an angel with too many ideas and too much pride.

They never saw the first war, nor the fall. But the four of them imagined it was something like that. Rebellion and aspiring eyes watching, wishing for their own paths. Their own place. Didn’t hurt the Diamond’s rank seemed to mirror the Almighty’s place among angels.

_“That all changed when she saw.. your fusion.”_

“Fusion seems really gay.” War commented as Pearl tried to fuse with Rose.

“You’re just saying that because you’re gay.” Famine said.

“We’re all gay, stupid.” She said.

“IT IS MEANT TO BE A METAPHOR FOR LOVE.” Death said. “IN ALL ITS FORMS.”

“Wow, since when were you a media analyst?” Famine chuckled as he turned to look at them, no shift of emotion in their eye sockets.

“I WOULD THINK IT WAS RATHER CLEAR.” On screen, Pearl had began to confess her desires to Rose, who was surprised yet enchanted by her swordsman.

“I guess.” He said. It hadn’t came as clearly for him, but who would question Death? 

“Still pretty gay.” War added as they continued to watch the flashback scene.

_———_

_“She was our leader, and Earth was our precious home!”_

“They fought a good fight if they survived and still told the tale.” War said. She would know, she had seen most of the wars that had taken place in all of history. Her entire life had been filled with the sights of bloodshed and battle. She knew what was a glorious battle and what was a pointless endeavor. 

“Would you have been there if you could, Carm?” Famine asked.

“Oh, definitely.” War said. “A war like that? Be hard to miss.”

“What side would you be on?” He asked.

“Eh..” She shrugged. “Probably for convenience, the earth gems. You try convincing the Diamonds that you’re something other than a lowly life form.”

“You could.” Pollution said. “You’re you. You could convince God herself to go to war with her own forces, if you tried.”

“Maybe.” War said, not really believing that but wouldn’t dare admit it. She had too much pride for that.

———

_“You wouldn’t believe it took me to figure out that this, and you, are the same thing.”_

_“..What do you mean?”_

_“You’re both human! You have to admit it’s a little confusing. You’re big and can talk, and he’s small and can only make noises. How was I supposed to know you were the same species?”_

“She has a point.” Pollution said. “Babies are strange.”

“You’re so dumb, Chalks. They literally look like people but smaller.” War said.

“You can’t tell me you understood what a baby was the first time you saw them.” They argued.

“Least I didn’t think they were some kind of wild animal. Unlike some of us.” She popped another handful of popcorn in her mouth.

“It was one time!”

“Quiet.” Famine said, nudging Pollution in the side, who only grumbled in response.

_“But, then I started to notice.. You grow.”_

Silence filled the room. All eyes turned back to the tv as the music key changed.

_“When a gem is made.. it’s.. for a reason. They burst out of the ground, already knowing what they’re supposed to be. And that’s.. what they are..”_ War’s hand fell from her bowl to her side. Suddenly she didn’t feel as hungry as before. _“Forever.”_

The few seconds of silence from the screen passed like an eternity in the Horsepeople’s living room. None of them dared to move or make eye contact with each other, but they could all feel the air in the room start to shift.

_“But you? You’re supposed to change. You’re never the same even moment to moment. You’re allowed and expected to- invent who you are!”_ The gentle twinkle behind Rose’s words seemed to ring in their ears louder and louder. _“What an incredible power. The power to.. grow up.”_

The episode continued on, but the tension in the room was clear. No one spoke of it, stewing in their own personal thoughts.

Pollution stood from the couch as the credits rolled. 

“I.. Need to go do something. Just watch the next one without me.” They said, ignoring the funny sounding commercials that came on, noise pollution really, and excusing themselves quickly before retreating to their room. The sound of their door shutting was almost as quiet as the other’s breathing.

“I should.. Get back to work. CHOW won’t sell itself. Not yet at least.” Famine fiddled with his tie as he got up from his spot. He gripped it a little tighter than usual as he walked to his home office.

“And I..” War looked at Death, who was the last one still sitting on the couch. She didn’t see much of a response from them, but then again, they never really emoted much. “Yeah.” She rubbed the back of her neck as she left the apartment, leaving Death in the living room alone as the tv screen changed again.

_“We..”_

The episode began like the rest, the opening’s jingle cheery and melodic, stirring only a small lightness inside Death’s being. Didn’t do much to lighten the extremely heavy tension still floating around. 

And yet, they watched on.

———

_“Isn’t it remarkable, Steven?”_

Pollution looked from their phone to their wall, covered in art they had made over the years of boredom following Armageddon. Different mediums spanning from acrylics to spray paints. Their eyes seemed to linger on one smaller piece. Their crown, painted in oil. They hadn’t seen it in person since.. Well, you know. Part of them wondered if they’d ever see it again.

_“This world is full of so many possibilities..”_

Famine flipped through his paperwork, all filled with a whole lot of business garble that didn’t really make that much sense or mean much of anything in the grand scheme of things. He had a team of employees to handle the hard work of his company, he just had to be the spokesman. He took some pride in it, though. He had written the actual book that started it all himself, no ghostwriters or anything like that. Now look at him, head of a globally revered company. Shame that his goal of spreading beautiful hunger seemed pointless now that they had no end to work to. Humanity was just an endless spiraling game with no reward.

_“Each living thing has an entirely unique experience..”_

War leaned up against the wall downstairs, right out by the parking lot as she fixed her riding gloves. This little family vacation was wonderful, of course, but she needed her own, for lack of better wording, peace and tranquility. Whenever she needed her own space, she took a hop on her bike and ride as far as the path would take her. She tied back her scarlet hair and fixed her jacket as she sat down on her seat, before revving the engine.

_“The sights they see,”_

Pollution walked to their balcony doors, gentle sunlight peeking in through the curtains. They pulled them open and walked out to their easel. Crumbled tubes of paint were sprawled out across the ground beside a cup full of old water and washed brushes. They sat in front of a canvas, covered in a half-started painting of the surrounding landscape. It was bright green, with tints of reds and yellows against the summer sun. While dipping down for their brush, an idea struck them, and they pulled out a specific tube of paint.

_“the sounds they hear,”_

Famine finished re-reading a set of files on the newest set of CHOW products, a desserts and candy edition for all the sweet-tooths out there, when he heard his phone ring. _Da-da-d-da-da.. Da-da-d-da-da.._

_“the lives they live..”_

War rode down to the closest lake, plopping herself down on the bank. She always did like the smell of water, even when it wasn’t stained with blood. It reminded her of her early days, traveling by ship with kingdom-conquering lords with many names. She took a deep whiff of the air, no salt but familiar all the same. She undid the ponytail holding back her hair, letting the wind blow freely through it.

_“Are so complicated..”_

Pollution began to work on their painting again. The world around them would never be so joyfully colored, as their mere presence brought on wilting browns and cold greys, but as they dipped their brush into the softer pigment, they were somewhat glad their oil paintings could include a little bit of pink against the bright greens.

_“..and so, simple.”_

Famine smiled gently as he looked at the message from Frannie. A meeting reminder, sure, but he knew that just meant it was time he could spend with her, just the two of them. At least one thing made some sense to him, even though everything else seemed to elude him. 

_“I can’t wait for you to join them.”_

War let her breathing slow, feeling the ground as she leaned back. The only thing she heard was the ripple of the water and the rustle of wind. In her ears was only her heartbeat. She felt the weight of the world melt off her shoulders. 

_“Steven.. We both can’t exist._ ”

Death’s entire purpose was one of destruction and the reaping of souls, bringing about the end. Not the end of everything, mind you, as that would’ve been the Antichrist’s job, but it was sure damn close. The finale, the ending, the closing curtains of history, that was Death’s role. It was meant to come sooner, but part of them always knew this was how it was always meant to be. Thanks to a little interference.

_“I’m going to become half of you. And I need you to know that every moment you love being yourself.. That’s me! Loving you! And loving being you! Because you’re going to be something extraordinary.”_

Death may have known why that angel and demon saved the world, why they threw away everything for this place, but that didn’t mean they understood it. Not completely at least. Saving a world meant for destruction seems pointless. But, then again, so did the concept of being reborn as your own son.

_“You’re going to be a human being.”_

They already knew how the episode would end, they knew everything, afterall. They knew how Steven Universe would end, how Rose’s story would end. They knew how Pollution’s painting would look, how Famine’s dinner-date would go, and how War’s time alone would be spent. They knew how the whole world would really, truly end one day. 

But, that wasn’t the point, was it? 

The end was never really what mattered. It was the journey there. The life before the death. The changes one would go through. That deeply human experience of growth, of inventing who you are..

Is that what _She_ had wished for when creating the universe?

Is that what _She_ had wished for for the horsepeople of the apocalypse?

_“Take care of them, Steven.”_

And with that, the tv shut off. That was enough for the day, Death had decided.


End file.
